


Baby We Can Own This Town

by BossyCoatrack



Series: FAHC shots (EVERYBODY 🎶) [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Ambitious Burnie, Cockbites, Drunk Geoff, Fake AH Crew, Gen, One Shot, Pre-Fake AH Crew, but only kind of implied, might continue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-28 12:03:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BossyCoatrack/pseuds/BossyCoatrack
Summary: [["Geoff Ramsey? I've come to speak with you about something, if you'll allow me the time.""Depends, Do I owe you money?""Worse. You owe me a favor."]]Michael (Burnie) Burns has a vision and wants Geoff to help him make it a reality.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Splurge

 In the darkened dining room of a small nightclub, known as The Spot, one man sat, watching the last preformer of the night.

 This was the beginning.

 Amongst the empty tables covered in dirty beer glasses and the dimmed lights of the closing establishment, the disheveled man in an old black leather jacket sat at the front of the stage. His face was hidden in shadow, allowing only his unkempt dark hair which stuck up in the front to be seen. He watched idly as the last preformer of the night gave it her all to a soft rock tune playing just loud enough to get a rhythm from above them. His eyes glazed through the girls performance as he nursed his last beer. He planned to savour it until the bartender kicked him out, where he would then have to travel to the all night bar a few blocks away, the Soggy Loaf, in order to get a new drink.

 The man didn't seem to move his head, nor give any indication that he was aware of his surroundings, but he didn't appear surprised when another dark figure shifted out of the darkness to stand behind him.

 "Have a seat," the man said in a scratchy voice, not turning to look at the new arrival but waving a hand at the chair beside him a friendly gesture, "no reason to let your feet get sore."

 The figure obliged, settling down into the light to show off the features of the man, as he sported a horrible case of baby face, barely subdued by his dark stubble beginnings of a beard. Dressed in a dark gray windbreaker and jeans, and curly black hair in desperate need of a trim. He looked an oddity, the establishment being one expected of higher tastes, but nothing unseen in The Spot before. A college student, relishing in the lack of parental vigilance before the weight of adulthood came crashing down on his shoulders, but look into the eyes gleaming through those rectangular glasses rested on his pointed nose, and there was a spark that went well beyond the hopes and dreams of an aspiring youth. A spark that promised trouble, and spoke of truly dangerous ambition.

 "Geoff Ramsey?" The young man asked, "I've come to speak with you about something, if you'll allow me the time."

 The first man, Geoff, lifted his head, allowing the stage lights to flow over his face, reveling tired, lidded eyes over a long, round nose, and a much more accomplished scruff than his new companion, covering an oval jawline.

 "Depends," Geoff looked at the other with an amused look subtly playing on his features, "Do I owe you money?"

 The second man seemed to share in the first's amusement, "Worse," he said, a full smirk taking over his previously stoic expression, "you owe me a favor."

 Geoff's whistled low, "A favor? You have the wrong guy. I don't let myself _owe_ anyone."

 "Well you owe _me_ ," the man said, shifting to face Geoff directly, "Freelancer Gang. Three years ago. Los Logro. Ringing any bells, Ramsey?"

 Geoff stiffened, his eyes, for the first time, flickering to look at this man who had imposed on him so brashly.

 "Yeah..." He leaned back in his seat, bringing his glass to his mouth as if about to take a drink in a deliberate show of ease that he no longer felt, "Burns, right? Michael."

 "I prefer Burnie," he said, face turning into a brief frown before regaining his cool.

 Geoff took a long sip of his drink before speaking again, eyes shifting between the man watching him chug alcohol with disturbing intensity, clearly waiting for a response, and the corners of the building, counting the exits, searching for anyone else in the establishment besides himself, the man, the dancer, and the bartender.

 "So..." He started, speaking purposefully slow, "What does Flowers want so bad that he has to ask a lacky to cash a favor for it?"

 This time, Burnie flat out scowled. The grip on his chair tightening at the name.

 "I'm not a lacky anymore," he ground out firmly, his knuckles turning white, "and I'm definitely not here on behalf of that _psychopath_."

 Geoff hummed thoughtfully, "I'm sensing a tragic backstory occuring here," he glanced at the spectacled man with mock sympathy, "Wanna bitch about it?"

 Burnie glared, the conversation clearly not headed in the direction he had planned.

 Geoff simply chuckled at the scathing look, and placed his glass on the table separating them slightly farther from himself than necessary in a subtle offer. One that was taken without hesitation as Burnie yanked it off the table, accidentally splashing some on the floor in the process, and lifted it to his mouth to take a swig. Geoff didn't watch him as carefully as Burnie had watched him, instead taking a moment to silently mourn the alcohol dripping down the side of the table down into the teal shag carpet.

 "He had a reputation from the beginning dude," Geoff sighed when his companion slammed the now nearly empty beer back on the table, "I don't blame you for getting pulled in though, the guy has a convincing shell. No one saw it coming."

 Burnie huffed a humorless laugh, "You did. You were on less than a month before ripping your contract up in front of the guy's face."

 Geoff offered a conceding shrug.

 "So!" He started, taking on a friendly tone as he finally turned to face the man completely, "if not Flowers, who are you here on behalf of?"

 "Myself," Burnie said firmly, "I'm starting fresh. On my own. I'm making something new, and I want you to help me."

 "New?" Geoff raised an eyebrow, "sounds dangerous."

 Burnie grinned openly, "I'm making a crew, Ramsey. A real crew. One that can take down the sad, backstabbing, slime-filled gangs constantly fighting for a piece of this city."

 "Oh?” Geoff asked, looking disinterested.

 Burnie jerked to frown at the man, temper flaring, "You think I can't?"

 "I think it's unnecessary," he clarified, "one gang after another, after another, after another. If you're smart, you hop around. No one to tie you down when things go to shit, and they always go to shit, Burns. _Always_. Doesn't matter how good you are at playing the game."

 "I'm not here to play a game, Ramsay, I'm here to win it," Burnie snapped, fire burning so hot it turned blue in his eyes, "I'm not gonna settle for a piece here. I'm going to take everything these fuckin Cockbites have built up and _rip it apart in front of their eyes_. This gang war shit isn't gonna end until someone steps the fuck up. It's not gonna be the Enforcers, so it might as well start with a dumbass and a drunk!"

 He paused, looking to gauge the other's reaction. Geoff let the silence sit for a long moment before gesturing for him to continue, showing that he might be, _might be_ , interested.

 "...How?"

 "The biggest problem with the gangs in this city is the constant usurping. The Charon gang already has six dead leaders to their name, and Freelancer was almost completely destroyed by infighting a year ago, and they were considered almost goddamn invincible. I'm not looking for the best of the best. I'm looking for guys decent enough at their job, and  _loyal._ "

 Geoff snickered, "So you come to me? A contract con man?"

 Burnie shrugged, "Like I said, you owe me. And don't sell yourself short, I've seen you in the field. You're pretty good with a weapon."

 "Yeah, well..." Geoff paused to finish what little beer remained in his glass, "old habits, and what not."

 "Not to mention the best strategist I've ever seen."

 "I thought you weren't looking for the best," Geoff scolded playfully, amused by the complements.

 "I'm making an exception for you," Burnie said, "I need someone who's a good judge of character, that's one thing I can't skim on."

 Geoff made a non-committal noise, looking around at the bartender to get his attention, he gestured at himself and his companion and watched the shaggy man behind the counter start mixing two more drinks.

 "You'd need a hacker, first and foremost," he started, listing off his fingers, "this day and age you need someone with tech skills to get the good stuff."

 Burnie shrugged, "I'll look into it."

 Geoff thought for a moment, then shrugged, seemingly coming to a conclusion, "Don't bother, I've gotta guy on call, he's an asshole, but dedicated. Next you need a dirty cop. I know a few that'll take a bribe, and a couple that I have some serious dirt on, but not much in the loyalty category."

 Burnie waved him off, "I've already got my eye on someone. It'll take some convincing but I think you can crack him if I could get you alone with him for a while."

 "Kinky," Geoff snickered, graciously taking both drinks from the bartender and handing one to Burnie after talking a second to judge which one was less full, "You need a driver. It wouldn't hurt if they could fly some shit too, the bigger the resume the better."

 Burnie grinned, "I've got a guy. Street racer. Real old school, he and his 'manager'," he made quotes in the air, "are always eager for a challenge."

 "And lastly muscle," Geoff pointed out, "You either need one huge guy that's too dumb to go against you, a cheap merc, or get a ninja off Craigslist."

 Burnie grimaced, "We'll... Run some interviews."

 Geoff sipped his new drink, much fancier than the beer he had been nursing before.

 "You're serious about this, ain't you Burns?"

 Burnie nodded, "Ramsey, I'm going to make a crew, and we're going to own this town."

 "And if we can't?" He asked curiously.

 Burnie looked up, the spark in his eyes twinkling menacingly, "Then I'm gonna burn it to the ground with me."

 Groff mulled over the words before offering up an apathetic shrug, "To our inevitable demise then," he said, lifting his drink.

 The two clanked their glasses, and turned to watch the dancer finish her performance.

 In the darkened dining room of a small nightclub, known as The Spot, two men sat, watching the last preformer of the night.

 This was the end of the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

This isn't a chapter sorry, this work was freaking out about something so I'm just reuploading it and hoping that does something.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot but IDK. Should I continue?
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> Please alert me of any spelling mistakes, I'm always looking to improve


End file.
